


Choose. (I can't)

by vmswirl



Series: Whumptober2020 [1]
Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Blood Loss, Blood and Injury, Breaking and Entering, Gen, Gun Violence, Hostage Situations, Shitty Parents Mention, Sibling Bonding, hospital mention, police mention
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-04
Updated: 2020-10-04
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:41:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,842
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26823841
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vmswirl/pseuds/vmswirl
Summary: They weren’t stupid. Janus, Virgil, and Remus, the local teen rebels, knew that eventually they would piss the wrong people off. That eventually, their games would get them in trouble. They just didn’t think it would be quite like this.
Relationships: Anxiety | Virgil Sanders & Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders & Deceit | Janus Sanders, Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders & Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders, Familial Creativitwins, Platonic Anxceitmus
Series: Whumptober2020 [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1956523
Kudos: 13





	1. Red isn't your color

**Author's Note:**

> Whumptober2020 Prompt #2:  
> "In the hands of the enemy" : Pick who dies / Kidnapped

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Janus, Remus, and Virgil get themselves into trouble when they enter a seemingly-abandoned building.

Remus snickered quietly at the look on Virgil’s face while he was concentrating- eyebrows furrowed and tongue stuck out. The younger teen was kneeling in front of a door in the back of the abandoned building they were attempting to sneak into, working on picking the lock. Janus, the oldest of the three, stood to the side, keeping watch for anyone that might pass by. 

“Are you sure you can do that?” Remus teased, “Wouldn’t want to put too much pressure on baby Virge over here-”

_ Click. _

Virgil smirked at him and flipped him off before carefully pushing the door open. The interior was dark and musty, and Janus pulled out a flashlight as he filed in behind them and silently slid the door closed. Remus’ eyes wandered over the piles of old, sheet covered boxes around the small room, and as they continued out into the hallway, he only vaguely registered the weirdly clean floor. That should have been the first sign. 

At the end of the hallway, there was a large open room, with more boxes like the last. None of them noticed the lack of dust on these. None of them noticed the way that some of the shadows shifted, even in the absence of light. 

Remus wandered out in front of the other two, tracing the edge of one of the boxes. Just as it started to click that something was off about it, there was a clatter from behind him and a flash of light. Twirling around, he was met with open air and a flashlight rolling across the floor. He froze, not knowing whether to call out or try to sneak to the edge of the room. He didn’t get the chance, as another light appeared and shone right into his eyes. 

He stumbled back, blinking, trying to adjust to the light. Once his vision cleared, his eyes landed on a handful of shadowed figures in front of him. Normally, he would’ve taken that in stride with a frankly stupid amount of hubris. Normally, he would’ve pulled out his knife and dared them to try. Normally, however, his opponents weren’t holding the steel barrels of guns to his best friends' heads. His heart sank into his stomach like it was being dropped into the ocean with cement shoes. 

“Well look what we have here,” one of them jeered, “A trio of trespassers, eh?”

“What were you going to do? Steal? Burn the place down?” Another cut in, sharply, “This is our turf, you little shits. You don’t belong here.”

“We didn’t mean t-” Virgil spoke up, voice laced with panic. He was cut off by another one of the figures. 

“Doesn’t matter, don’t care. You don’t get to invade our space without consequences. But… I’m feeling nice today... I don’t think it’s necessary for all three of you to die for such a... silly, little mistake. Why don’t we make a deal.” Bile rose in Remus’ throat. He saw the way Virgil’s eyes widened, and Janus’ mouth pressed into a thin line. “I’ll let two of you walk out of here alive. I’ll keep one of you as compensation.” No. No, he wasn’t going to leave either of them. He wasn’t-

“You,” The first one pointed at Remus. “Choose. Now.” Then it fully sunk in. 

“What,” He said, quietly, hoping to whatever god may or may not exist that he wasn’t right about what he thought was happening here. 

“Choose. One of them lives, one of them dies. Pick one to leave with you, or we shoot them both.” 

His mind rolled to a halt. He couldn’t. He- Janus, his oldest friend. Virgil, their youngest, the one they were supposed to protect. Pick Janus, and Janus would hate him forever, hate him for picking him over the one that still had a chance, that could still fix his life. It wasn’t too late for him. Pick Virgil, and Virgil would draw in on himself, internalizing it as  _ his fault, his fault, _ and grieving the loss of the one who cared for him as his own parents did not. 

Remus opened his mouth- to say what, he didn’t know, but he didn’t even get the chance. A blur appeared on the right of his vision, and time sped back up. 

A gunshot. A scream.  _ (Virgil?)  _ A thud. 

He stared, numbly, at the spot where Janus had landed.

It quickly became apparent what had happened. 

When he couldn’t choose, when he had failed to make a decision, Janus had made it for him. 

“Shit,” came the voices of one of the men, “let’s get out of here.” There was distant thudding as they ran. The cowards ran, and as his mind buzzed, Remus had half a mind to run after them. Pull out his knife as he normally would. Tear into them, rip them to  _ shreds- _

“REMUS,” came a hoarse yell, “PLEASE.”

Virgil was knelt at Janus’ side, frantically trying to stem the flow of blood coming from his chest. It dripped down him, onto the floor, staining the yellow of his clothes an ugly crimson.

Remus decided red really wasn’t Janus’ color. He would tell him as such, too, once he was ok again. Once-

His cheek stung, suddenly, and Virgil’s hazelnut and emerald eyes flooded his vision. He realized dimly that they both had tears rolling down their cheeks. 

“Wake. Up.” Virgil hissed, hand still pressed against the wound.

“We need help,” He managed faintly, “It’s- it’s too much- he’s going to bleed out.” 

Virgil was quiet for a moment, struggling with something. “They’ll take you away,” he said shakily, “You have too much on your record-”

“I know. But- but for him, it’d be worth it. It- it’s ok.”

Virgil slowly shook his head, a determined look on his face. “Go,” he said firmly. 

“What-”

“I’ll handle it. Go run. Before they get here. I’ll- I’ll make some shit up, about how we were lost- or the door was left open, or something, just- please.”

They could both hear sirens in the distance, now. Virgil shoved him. “GO.”

He looked down at Janus. He was so, so pale. Covered in red. He hated red. The sirens were right outside, now. He took one last look at them- Janus, who could be a corpse- Virgil, who was shaking, holding off a panic attack sure to claim him once he was sure Janus was safe. And then he ran. 

He ran, like the cowards that had run just a few minutes before. And he hated,  _ hated,  _ himself for it. Hated running away. He never ran. He always went into situations head first, daring something to challenge him. He hated not knowing what was going to happen. Hated knowing that he would have to walk in the front door, be grilled by his parents, ignored by his brother, and have to pretend that everything was fine. That that may have been the last time he would ever see his best, his oldest friend. That he would have left the one he was supposed to protect to clean up the mess. That he wouldn’t know if Janus had even survived until Virgil, or eventually Janus himself came to tell him so. 

He couldn’t go see Janus in the hospital- Janus’ parents would be there, and they would  _ know  _ he had something to do with it and do what they could to clear him from their son’s life. He couldn’t go visit Virgil- his parents hated him as well, and would do the same. And honestly, he wouldn’t blame Virgil and Janus for hating him after this, so maybe he just wouldn’t ever know. Until one day, when they were all older and wiser, and he saw the two of them walking down the street together, as the three of them used to do, once upon a time. 

His lungs burned, and as his house grew closer, he realized the kitchen light was on.  _ Fuck.  _ He stepped up to the door, bracing himself as he pushed it open, ready to face his parents anger.

But it never came. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Cement shoes" is a reference to a method of body disposal in water. It seemed like the type of obscure gruesome thing Remus would have in the back of his mind


	2. Chamomile & Cinnamon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Remus returns home, he gets the opposite to what he expected, and an unlikely ally.

As Remus stepped through the door, he was met with the smell of hot chocolate, and-  _ was that chamomile?-  _ and his brother scribbling in his sketchbook at the table. He looked up when he entered, clearly not too terribly surprised that Remus was walking through the front door at ass-o’clock in the morning. But then Roman’s eyes landed on his face, and his expression morphed from that of neutral tiredness to brimming concern. 

“...Remus? Are you alright?” 

Remus didn’t answer. He didn’t know what to say, and honestly, didn’t think he could talk right now if he wanted to. He just took a deep breath, and crossed the room to bury himself in the couch, his chest burning with both the pain of running and the flurry of horrible emotions he was feeling. His mind was buzzing.

“-us. Remus? Can you hear me?” Roman’s voice reappeared, clearly trying to get his attention. It was only when he placed a hand tentatively on Remus’ back that he realized he was shaking. “Look, I… I know we don’t always get along, and I get it if you don’t want to talk about it right now but, just… I’m here if you want to, okay?”

They were both silent for a few moments, before Remus reached up to tentatively squeeze his arm. 

_ Thank you. _

Roman seemed to get the message. He squeezed back, and he could feel the weight disappear off the couch. After what felt like only a few moments later, though, a warm mug was pressed into his hands. He could smell the cinnamon in it. Roman had always hated Remus’ weird hot cocoa & spice concoction, but Remus was a bit touched that despite that, he still remembered how to make it. He gave him a weak smile. Normally, he would down it as fast as possible just to see the disgusted look on his brother’s face, but, well. Nothing about this situation was particularly normal. 

Roman sat down behind him with his sketchbook, and continued whatever he had been working on, the only noise being the scratch of his pencil against the paper and the occasional rustle of a blanket. 

Once Remus had finished his drink and set it to the side, he spoke up, quietly. “Insomnia eating your ass again?” 

Roman hummed. “Yeah. Just one of those nights, I guess.”

“I could knock you out, if you wanted,” Remus joked weakly.

“Thanks, but I’ll pass,” Roman responded dryly, but there was a fondness in his voice that usually wasn’t there. “You should get some sleep, Rem.”

“...Yeah,” Remus agreed, quietly, “That would probably be a good idea.” All the adrenaline had long worn off by now, and the only thing he could think about was the softness of the pillow and the warmth of the blanket.  _ And the red of-  _ Remus shoved the intrusive thought down and buried his face in the pillow.  _ Everything would be alright. It had to be.  _


End file.
